Brendan's rehearsal dinner starts in less than one hour, and, true to form, Brooke is still getting ready. Rookie error on my part. I should have known to pad our departure time by at least thirty minutes.

"Making progress?" I call, striding into my bathroom where she's been doing her hair for the better part of the afternoon. An assortment of high-end makeup products covers the counter, along with more hair appliances than one person should possibly require. It looks like Sephora exploded. I don't mind as much as I probably should.

But instead of curling her hair in front of the mirror like I expected, I find Brooke perched on the edge of the tub, nursing the glass of wine I brought her half an hour ago. Hair makeup is finished and she's wearing a jaw-dropping green dress, but half of her long hair is still straight. Her gaze is fixed to the floor, and she doesn't seem to notice my presence immediately. My stomach plummets, because I know what's eating at her. She's been off all day because of it.

"Dyscalculia." She glances up at me with vulnerability shining in her blue eyes. "Why didn't they catch that while I was in school?"

In retrospect, Brooke making an appointment to receive her assessment results this morning wasn't ideal timing. I would have advised against it, had she told me first. Too late, now. What she needs now is time to come to terms with her diagnosis, and that isn't an overnight process.

I cross the room and sit beside her, trying to parse out the right thing to say. "Like the psychologist said, there are still lingering sterotypes that girls are naturally weaker in math. That's likely one reason it flew under the radar. Plus, you scored above average in some of the testing areas. People who are smart often learn to compensate for their struggles using their other strengths."

"Compensate." Brooke snorts. "You mean, by not graduating college, falling tens of thousands of dollars behind to the IRS, and getting ripped off by a business partner?"

It hurts to hear her talk about herself this way.

"You're being too hard on yourself. Look at all the things you've accomplished lately. You're almost done your degree, you're kicking ass at the studio, and your taste in men has vastly improved."

Her mouth lifts. "You just had to go there, didn't you?"

"Always." I drape an arm around her and tug her closer. She leans her head against my shoulder with a sigh. "But seriously, you're our most popular coach for a reason. Besides, you're still the same person you always were. Now you have an explanation for some of the things you've experienced. Think of it as information you can use to gather tools and formulate strategies."

"Can my strategy start and stop with, 'making Dean handle anything number related'?" She tips back her glass, ruby liquid meeting her lips.

"I don't mind doing those things for you, but I think there's something to be said for you being empowered by knowing how to handle them yourself." God forbid, something were to happen to our relationship, I wouldn't want her to be in a position where she could possibly be taken advantage of again. She doesn't necessarily need to handle all the things, all the time, but I want her to understand them.

"Ugh, I hate it when you're right."

"I'm always right."

Brooke laughs. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Hollis."

"I was right about you from day one," I tell her. "Even if I was in denial to myself."

She sets down her wine and places a hand on my thigh, shifting to face me. "If you keep talking sweet like that, you're going to make us even more behind schedule."

Fuck. As tempting as that is, I know we can't spare the time.

I duck down for a quick kiss and force myself to pull back before it gets too heated. Considering how hot she looks in that dress, it pains me to put a stop to it, especially since there won't be a chance to make up for it later. In accordance with pre-wedding tradition, Brooke is spending the night with Vidya, and I'm spending the night with Brendan and the guys.

"Don't think we can squeeze that in. How about I hang out with you in here while you finish getting ready instead?" I ask.

"You want to watch me curl my hair?"

"Partly to keep you on task," I admit. We need to get moving like, five minutes ago. "But mostly, I want to spend time with you before we split up for the evening." And to help keep her from perseverating like she was when I found her.

Brooke pushes to stand and places her hands on my shoulders, bringing her lips to my ear. My hands slide up her backside, landing on her perfect, plump ass. It's a mistake, because now things are stirring down south.

"Make sure you save some energy for after the wedding tomorrow night," she says. "You're going to need it."

*

We arrive eight minutes past the designated starting time, which in books is roughly twenty-three minutes too late.

"Wow," Brooke says, her head turning as she scans the scene. "This is . . . a lot."

It is, in more ways than one. It seems Brooke and Brendan's mother got a little carried away with the planning. There are streamers and balloons everywhere, servers circulating with drinks and trays of food, and a solo guitarist has set up shop in one corner of the formal living room.

At a glance, the rehearsal dinner has nearly as many guests as the wedding will have tomorrow. Or at least, that's what it looks like. Their large house is packed wall to wall with people, with more gathered in the backyard under the patio heaters that are scattered about.

"This is more people than I'd want at the wedding itself," I murmur.

She turns to me, tilting her head. "I'm sorry, did I hear you right? You've thought about your wedding?"

Did I say that out loud? Who the fuck am I?

"I guess I have."

"Almost on time," Brendan says, striding up to us with a grin. He's ditched his signature khakis in favor of a navy suit and white dress shirt without a tie. He leans in, hugging us both. "I guess it is on time by Brooke's standards."

Her jaw drops. "Hey!" She pokes Brendan in the ribs, and he doubles over laughing. One of his fatal flaws is that he's ridiculously ticklish. Vidya abuses knowledge this often. "You're lucky I like Vidya better than you, or I'd return your wedding present."

He straightens, making a point to stay out of Brooke's reach. "Could be worse, I guess. Jay and Sawyer are going to be a bit still. Jay's car died on the freeway and they have to wait for a tow. Speaking of Vidya, though, she wanted to talk to you about the favors or something. She's in the kitchen with Mom." His mouth hints at a frown. "They're both a little stressed, so, uh, proceed with caution."

"Noted," Brooke says, snagging a glass of champagne from a server passing by. "Don't hog Dean all night, 'kay?"

"Too bad. You can have him back tomorrow night after the ceremony."

Brooke slips into the crowd and I let my gaze linger on her backside a little longer than I should, considering my company.

Damnit.

I snap back to reality to find Brendan looking at me, and it's not clear from his expression whether he noticed. The awkwardness surrounding this sister thing is something we're still trying to navigate, especially since Brooke are and I are firmly in the honeymoon stage—with all that it entails.

We squeeze past a group of people, heading for the bar. Brendan grabs a crystal tumbler, pours me a glass of Macallan, and hands it to me. It's quieter over here, with most of the guests congregating around the food set up in the dining room. I suspect he welcomes the breather, as he's not the most extroverted guy. At least, not when he's sober.

"Is Vidya doing all right?" I ask him.

"I think so. There isn't that much left to do. She's just fixating on making sure every single detail is perfect. I'm talking, things guests won't even care about or notice, like getting someone to check the bows on the back of the chairs to make sure they're on straight."

And this is why people should outsource things. Then you can pay someone to worry about that for you.

"See? Should have hired a planner."

Brendan raises an eyebrow. "You realize that if I had, you probably wouldn't be with Brooke right now?"

"Good point. Scratch that." I bring my glass to my lips, taking a sip. When I take a closer look at him, his shoulders are tense, his grip on his own drink tight. His gaze keeps darting around the room like he's expecting an explosion at any moment. I've never seen him look so keyed-up before. "Are you nervous for tomorrow?"

I didn't expect that from him. Tears, on the other hand, are a given. The guys and I have a running bet about when Brendan will cry tomorrow. It's not a question of if, it's a question of when.

My money's on the minute he sees Vidya at the other end of the aisle. Sawyer thinks he'll manage to hold out until they say their vows. And Jay thinks the waterworks will start while we're still getting ready at the hotel. Of us three, I've known Brendan the longest, and I'm pretty sure the Vegas odds are on my side.

"It's the pregnancy more than anything," he says, lowering his voice. We turn and head out the nearby patio doors, taking a seat on the outdoor couch off to the side. "Pregnancy hormones are no joke. That's probably why Vidyya's stressed right now, more so than the wedding itself. It's been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster since our last ultrasound. The baby looks like a baby now, not just a little bean, and it made it feel a whole lot more real."

In my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of Brooke's green dress through the window, and my cheeks tug. Her effect on me almost makes me question my sanity. It's wild.

"Brooke is still disappointed you didn't find out the sex," I say, returning my attention to Brendan. "She wanted to go shopping." Because if there's one thing she needs, it's an excuse to do that.

He shrugs, reaching over to turn on the gas firepit in front of us. "We got them to write it down and stick it in an envelope, but I don't think we'll end up looking at it."

That's some world class self control. I pride myself on my self-discipline, but I don't think even I could restrain myself from peeking in that scenario.

"What about you? You ready to walk my sister down the aisle tomorrow?" Brendan stops short, his glass of scotch halfway to his mouth. "Wow, that came out weird. I meant as the best man and maid of honor. Like, are you ready to perform your best man duties..." he trails off, grimacing. "Please don't freak out and run for the hills."

What, he thinks I'm going to bail on Brooke at the first mention of marriage?

I set down my empty glass, ice cubes rattling. "Do you really think I'm that commitment-phob—" the words die on my lips, because it's a reasonable assumption. And it has, in fact, happened more than once in the past. "I've softened my stance on that, so you can relax. But I'm looking forward to winning a hundred bucks when you finally crack tomorrow."

"I'm not going to cry."

"I can't believe you can sit here and say that with a straight face."

"Yeah," Brendan admits, his mouth cracking into a smile. "I'm going to be a fucking mess."

"It's all good. I'll be right there with you."

And as the best man, I'll be carrying plenty of tissues.

Long time, no update! If you follow me on instagram (same username as here), you'll see that I announced I am part of the new Wattpad Creators program. It is a huge honor and I'm so excited for what's to come. However, it also means I am juggling a lot of responsibilities at the moment, including some significant matters in my personal life in addition to self-publishing.

I plan to be more regular with updates as soon as I can, but first I have to finish releasing the second book in my Lakeside University Hockey Series, THE SNIPER. Which is, as some of you may recall, Vaughn & Luna's story - with cameos from Coach Dallas Ward,

Once I finish this story and Playmaker, time to start the next Wattpad project - and it's very much TBD.